


Madness Keeping Us Afloat

by FakePlastikTrees



Category: Damages
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-12
Updated: 2012-09-12
Packaged: 2017-11-14 01:48:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakePlastikTrees/pseuds/FakePlastikTrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set immediately after 05x07.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Madness Keeping Us Afloat

**Author's Note:**

> I know that I can be wrong  
> But maybe you're too headstrong

_"Are you coming?"_

 

_"No, Patty, I'm not coming with you."_

 

The wind blows Patty's jacket open as soon as she steps onto the blacktop. She angrily pulls it closed again. She can't believe she's done this again, even now, as she makes her way to much mentioned private jet, she knows that once the initial bitterness of having allowed herself to be more vulnerable than she should passes, she will be singing Ellen Parsons's praises again. But perhaps not. Perhaps this is the final straw. She hopes, at least, that she's learned her lesson once and for all.

 

Making the seemingly eternal walk against the hurling wind, she curses the younger woman. She curses her stubbornness, her unwillingness to reciprocate the kindness that is so difficult for Patty to offer in portions let alone fully, her overall childish behaviour.

 

_"I saw those tears in your eyes."_

 

Those tears in the hotel room were a dreadful infusion, of guilt and physical pain. A head reeling combination that Patty recalls still as if it occurred only minutes ago. Something Ellen will never even begin to understand. Very unlike the ones the wind has dried away tonight, which were--unfortunate in every sense of the word. 

 

Patty's stomach, where a very visible scar still lingers, twitches involuntarily at the unwelcome memory of that night years ago and she steps more deliberately against the ground, hoping as she clutches her side that liquor is served promptly.

 

"Welcome aboard, Ms. Hewes," Says the flight attendant and Patty forces a smile, because after all, the woman's uniform and make up are as impeccable as the smile on her face despite the weather and late hour, the least Patty can do, is smile politely.

 

Her coat is taken and Patty doesn't notice the way the woman stands a fraction too close. She is the same attendant that has serviced Patty's flights for the past year or so. Patty has no idea that this woman has become taken by her and that she doesn't mind in the least when she's notified that Ms. Hewes will be needing a last minute flight suddenly. This woman, Lynn, knows Patty doesn't notice much recently. Which is a shame because she used to. She used to ask how she was and used to comment on her hair. But the past couple of times, she's hardly even looked at her. Such is the case for Lynn as well. Unfortunate. 

 

Catching a whiff of the blonde's perfume, Lynn heaves a resigned breath and asks, "Would you like a drink, Ms. Hewes? Bourbon?"

 

"Please." Patty says swiftly, then walks past a few plush seats before settling somewhere in the middle and then drops her suitcase on the seat beside her.

 

She is more than prepared to drown in a bucket of bourbon and self loathing tonight at the mercy of her pilot and the worsening weather, so much so that she's already kicked off her shoes and made herself comfortable with her feet up on seat by the time Lynn begins to pour her drink somewhere Patty can't see.

 

Patty sighs, throws her head back and shuts her eyes before a gust of air suddenly reaches her. She turns her seat in time to see a wide eyed, flushed Ellen Parsons make her way inside. The door is quickly closed behind her and it's quiet again.

 

"Can I take your coat?" Lynn asks politely.

 

Their gaze breaks momentarily while Ellen hands over her belongings, and then resumes, with hardened stares that will not give. 

 

Ellen refuses to give off anything except capricious fury and Patty refuses anything but righteous anger. She can't help but feel Ellen's resentment is beginning to run its course when it comes to her patience for the young woman's shenanigan's and she decides that yes, she is definitely finished. 

 

Patty distinctly hears Ellen ask for a bourbon and nearly chuckles as she turns her seat back around. So much for all their differences. 

 

"Is that for Ms. Hewes?" Ellen asks quietly.

 

"Yes," Lynn replies, glancing at the second glass in her hand.

 

"I'll bring it to her." The other woman seems weary, but hands the glass to Ellen anyway. "Thank you."

 

Lynn disappears behind a dividing door while Ellen paces swiftly toward Patty, who is still turned away and hidden behind the large seat ahead.

 

Ellen feels restless and confused. She needs to know everything Patty isn't saying. She can't help the nagging self doubt at the look on Patty's face. It seemed almost sincere. Still, Ellen knows better and she can't bring herself to really believe it. She won't allow Patty the satisfaction. But she needs to put her mind at ease and that won't happen until they finish talking. On top of that, she needs to be in New York. She can't risk giving Patty even an inch of advantage in this case. She figures she might as well get some emotional leverage while she's at it.

 

A glass is presented before Patty. She smirks against her better judgement at the immediate recognition of the particularly grip, that thin delicate wrist. "Change your mind, did you?" She asks, taking her drink and sipping leisurely, "You always do."

 

Ellen decides to let that one go, opting instead to sit right across the other woman. They lounge in mutual silence for a few moments, Patty enjoying her drink with no reservations while Ellen watches intently and wonders if there is remorse in any of the woman's manners. There is nothing. Not a single inch if improbability. Ellen grits her teeth, lifts her glass to her lips and takes a small sip, and then sighs her frustration. "What the hell was that back there, Patty?" 

 

Patty looks up and meets Ellen's accusing glare head on. "This is why you got on the plane? You want to chat? You had plenty of time for that and you didn't seem the least bit interested earlier." 

 

"Cut the shit, Patty," Ellen snaps suddenly, the glass in her hand gradually numbing her palm with the radiating frigidness of the ice inside it. They've been shrinking for a while now and it's getting to the point where they should probably stop but it's almost as putting on shielding armor. The hazy buzz makes them both lose all inhibition and daggers start flying.

 

Patty's lips gradually curve up into a smile that lingers dangerously between maliciousness and intrigue. She sniffs and points her drink at Ellen before declaring, "You know, for someone who claims to want nothing to do with me, you sure keep taking everything I give you."

 

"For someone who claims to have no tolerance for indifference, you sure keep offering a lot for me to take."

 

"Do you really think you come off as indifferent, Ellen?"

 

Another pause stretches out between them. Often times, and this is clear to them both, they speak to each other in ways that form a million doors to a million interpretations, none of which they open. perhaps in fear of retribution.

 

The seat belt signal dings its alert and they use this as an interlude, breaking their conversation to basten their seat belts. As the plane ascends, Patty notices Ellen's poise completely impaired and replaced by nerves and a white knuckle grip of the armrest. The plane shakes and feels as if it tumbles in its fight through the storm, and then finally finds a steady glide.

 

Ellen appears to finally relax and after a long swig of bourbon, she exhales a low "oof".

 

"You're all right." Patty reassures, caring against her will, forgetting about her own racing heart to cater to Ellen's own. 

 

Ellen side glances Patty and sits up in her seat, uncrossing and recrossing her legs. "I know." She nearly spouts.

 

"Why do you do that?" Patty cackles, "You go strictly out of your way to antagonize me, to let me know just how unlike me you are. But look at your career, Ellen--look at your _drink_." 

 

Ellen can feel the heat rise up her neck. She's got no witty remark to this one. She's right. She remembers drinking bourbon all of two times before her sister's wedding. She never looked back after that. She remembers that barely there flutter at the thought of sharing a glass with Patty. 

 

"...you don't want to be around me? All right. You still came back after, as you claim, I tried to have you killed. You came back after that--you didn't have to help me with the Tobin Case. You had your own career--your choosing by the way--you didn't have to jeopardize your job for me."

 

"I did that for Tom. Not for you. I didn't come back for you."

 

"Right." Patty nods, "For Tom." The thought of Tom still fills her heart with something incomprehensible and Patty feels an involuntary twinge in her chest.

 

Ellen's gaze drops down to the floor as she takes another drink, this time for Tom's memory and the guilt she still feels won't ever go away.

 

"And then--a year after that? You came back into my life, why?"

 

"You called me. A lot, if you recall."

 

"And you answered the phone every time. You returned every missed call. And then you came over that night, do you remember? I made you a drink and you never left. And then, there was the HiStar case, but of course, that was just convenient, wasn't it."

 

Ellen doesn't like Patty's all knowing tone. She doesn't like that she thinks she's got Ellen down, and she doesn't like that she's right. No one forced her to stick around, it's true. No one forced her to get on this plane, and yet here she is. "That's right," She says anyway and lifts her chin. "I used you. Isn't that what you wanted? Me, wide eyed and innocent--sweet--Ellen tearfully asking big powerful Patty for help...that's what you said, right? _You were such a sweet girl._ Is that something you miss?"

 

Patty sits up and pushes forward slowly, shaking her head as she says, "No. No, Ellen, that's what you think I want. And maybe somewhere deep down, that's what YOU wanted. All these years, and you still don't understand--reading people's needs and wants is what I do. It's why I'm GOOD at my job. Do you really think I didn't see right through that facade? You are more transparent than you think. You can swear all you want that I have no hold over you, and maybe I don't  but you sure as hell love playing the game with me and that's out of your own volition."

 

"Then why keep me around if you see right through my bullshit?" Ellen snaps, nostrils flared, empty glass gripped tightly in her hand.

 

"I told you, I don't know." Patty earnestly replies, drinking the remains of her share of liquid courage before nodding towards Ellen's glass, "More bourbon?"

 

Not knowing what else to do to drain the tension out of her body, Ellen wordlessly unbuckles her seat belt, rises to her feet and takes Patty's glass before disappearing towards the bar. Patty's eyes don't follow. But the action of pouring, and the sound of glass gently clinking, is not helping at all, it isn't nearly enough of a distraction. Even when she's served the two drinks, she stops and leans with both palms on the bar, lowering her head and closing her eyes--forcing herself to breathe in and out. She hopes this will buy her some time, as her body almost seems to vibrate with what she hopes is still just anger. Because anger, she can deal with. She's been dealing with it for years now.

 

She winces when a failed breath comes up shaky and she mumbles to herself, "Get it together." But her blood is pumping furiously, she can feel it in her ears.

 

She pushes herself off and grabs the two glasses before quickly heading back. 

 

Patty promptly receives a refilled serving, some of it spilling on her knuckle with unexpected force. "Thank you," She says, and then licks the spilled bourbon off the back of her hand. For a moment, she is almost positive Ellen has gasped. 

 

"Why did you lie to me?" Ellen asks, "What can you possibly save after all these years, by lying to me about what happened? You have no right to deny me that." 

 

"Deny you what, Ellen? The truth?" 

 

"Stop lying to me! Stop trying to control me!" 

 

"I'm not trying to control you, Ellen--" Patty says deliberately.

 

"Stop it--"

 

"Ellen--"

 

"Stop it, stop saying my name!" Ellen nearly yells, eyes burning with hateful tears, muscles strained against the retained will to act, like a rubber band stretched to its limit.

 

Ellen's known for a long time that there is something about the way Patty says her name. It's bothered her. The way she says her name. She couldn't exactly point out why, but now--now she knows. It isn't that it bothers her in the simple definition of the term, except it _provokes_ her. It makes her body react and that in its own is exasperating, when all Ellen wants is to be in control. Often she not only hears that assumption in the pronunciation, that Patty owns her somehow, but she believes it. Ellen doesn't want to be owned. She doesn't want to belong to Patty--she doesn't want Patty. Except, the way she says her name really makes her feel wanted and--bothered. "I'm not yours." Ellen whispers harshly. 

 

She shakes her head as soon as she hears the bewildering, quivering betrayal in her own voice and finds instant refuge in her drink, downing the entirety and missing when Patty's eyes well up with bitter tears again before she follows suit and swallows most of her own bourbon.

 

Patty can't help but think that maybe that's their problem. That they are not each other's property and yet somehow, that's how they behave. It dawns on her, that perhaps this is why she keeps Ellen around. Because she knows she'll never really have her. And Ellen will never want Patty. Not really. 

 

Except, Ellen is looking at Patty now. With those sad, expectant eyes and it's almost like she does want Patty. As if she wants to own the older woman just as badly as she wants to destroy her. It's almost convincing. But Patty doesn't trust it. Not until Ellen sets her glass aside and gets out of her seat. Not until Ellen walks the short distance between their seats and takes Patty's glass out of her hands to make away with it.

 

Patty looks up just as Ellen's head lowers a little, and a little more, until she can feel the younger woman's hair curtain over both their faces, and her breath, warm and steady against her cheek. 

 

Maybe they're just drunk. Maybe it's the situation they've gotten themselves into. Maybe it's just that they can't help it.

 

"This is a mistake."

 

"Yes, it is."

 

Hesitantly, Ellen's lips graze Patty's. Except, something even more unexpected than this entire night happens. Patty turns her head away, subtly but a strong enough message nonetheless, and if that isn't, the polite "Please stop" that follows contains enough of a 'kindly fuck off' tone to make Ellen wish the plane would crash so she could die and not have to face the ugly face of sheer and utter embarrassment that is waiting for her once she steps away.

 

What Ellen fails to forget in this moment, because she's never had to be without it, is that Patty's patience has an expiration date, one that is quick to materialize and give no warning before Patty's kindness shuts down.

 

Patty seems to have reached that point now, where she's given all she is willing to give and more. She will not be reduced to being a stepping stone underneath Ellen's piercing stiletto heel any longer. The girl has looked down her nose at her for the last time and now all that's left is Patty's determination to rid herself of all of this and the level of humiliation that is quickly reaching its boiling point. 

 

Ellen blinks back her confusion and her body is instantly filled with that dreaded stiffness of discomfort. She feels trapped in the luxury plane and claustrophobic as she stands up straight and slides her palms down against her sides, smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt, and hoping Lynn would just come back in here and do her job. 

 

"I'm done, Ellen," Patty says, not bothering with raising her voice above a mere whisper, not bothering to look up at the other woman.

 

Ellen stops in mid turn, her plan to sit on a seat as far away as possible for the remainder of the flight ruined by the questionable response, which she reconsiders instantly. "Excuse me?" Ellen asks, meaning to ask a lot more than that. _Done with what? With the cat and mouse games, with the manipulations, the double meaning kindness, caring? With me altogether? What?_  Ellen would like to take the time to be upset about what Patty's words mean, but the woman won't even acknowledge her and so Ellen opts to believe Patty's referring to doing Ellen the favor of her friendship. Yes, this assumption works a lot better, because she's suddenly furious. 

 

Patty clears her throat and then picks invisible lint off her shoulder. 

 

"You're done with WHAT, Patty?" Ellen demands, "Don't do me any favors, thank you. I can do without the self righteousness just fine."

 

Patty laughs. She turns her head and looks up, "Self righteousness?" She repeats mockingly and then shakes her head. "You really are in for the surprise of your life when someone kicks that golden pedestal right out from under you." She stands and breezes right past a shell shocked, slack jawed Ellen. Heading straight for the bar and fighting through the tension quickly building in her shoulders, she sighs and licks her lips while she easily pours more bourbon into her glass. 

 

Ellen lags behind and balls her hands into tight fists at her sides while her nostrils flare. She wonders what the hell happened to 'what was your parents secret?', wonders if it's really that simple, for Patty's opinion of her to make a 180, just like that. She doesn't know whether to fear it or loathe it. She does both as she stalks forward. "So, that's it? I call you out on your shit and you're done with me?"

 

"That's it," Patty retorts sardonically. "You're free," then turns and lifts her glass in Ellen's direction, "You wanted to get rid of me, you've done it. I'm done."

 

It is just like that. Ellen really is that disposable. She is not that important, Patty doesn't want to keep her close. It's that easy. Any therapist would have a field day with her and how fucked up her head is. She can't tell if this really means she's free or if it's just thrown another pile of chains for her to untangle. Without Patty, there is no one to blame. There is no one responsible, and this makes Ellen feel lost. But how dare Patty just up an take that from her? She can't. She glares at the older woman's relaxed posture. She leans back against the bar, sipping her bourbon like it's happy hour at some swanky bar in New York City.

 

"You seem thrown, Ellen." Patty pipes up again. "You got what you wanted. Have one last drink, celebrate. You can sit in the cockpit if it's far enough for you. That way you won't have to be bothered with the sight of me and I can have some peace and quiet. I can finish my book." 

 

Ellen winces against her will. And when Patty turns her head and looks at her, that warmth from earlier has been replaced by pure rigid disdain and inebriation. Ellen fears Patty might just her off the plane as soon as she gets the chance to. 

 

"Have another drink." Patty repeats, but it sounds more like an order this time. 

 

For once, Ellen is obedient. She doesn't say a word and as she prepares herself a drink, she is overwhelmingly aware of Patty's nearness, Patty's even breathing, and that quiet little hum she elicits when she drinks. 

 

"What's the matter?" Patty asks coolly, then, once Ellen fails to reply, adds, "You don't like being told the truth? I thought that's what you were all about." 

 

Suddenly, Ellen has turned back into the fresh faced, naive Ellen Parsons who first showed up at Hewes & Associates, impressionable and afraid. But mostly afraid now--saddened perhaps. Alcohol is best in gulps, so that's how she drinks it and soon, it's lost its sting. 

 

When they're both good and drunk and sitting on opposite ends of the plane, Patty drops her glass, lets it roll on the floor, back and forth until it is trapped in a corner somewhere, and stands up to approach Ellen. Like a predator stalking its prey.  

 

"You don't want me to be nice to you," She says, while Ellen stares back through lazy half hooded eyes. "You want me to be a bitch so you can have a reason..."

 

Ellen's chair sways as Patty gently pushes it with her foot.She isn't wrong. But Ellen will never say that to her. Instead, she tilts her chin upward and smiles weary smile she can only muster with this much alcohol in her bloodstream. 

 

And then Patty is looming over her, their lips close again, the way they were before. Ellen's part as Patty smirks and says huskily, "And now you want me to kiss you. What an interesting turn of events." 

 

Ellen's eyes flutter shut and she rakes her nails over the armrests, her body reacting rapidly to the sound of Patty's voice alone.

 

"How many times did you think about this?" Patty asks.

 

This is the most difficult question Ellen has ever been expected to answer, it seems. Until now, she had not really thought about it. Thoughts about Patty had been--had always been--frequent and nearly subconscious. Whether she fantasized about murdering her with her bare hands or shoving her up against the nearest wall for entirely different reasons, it had all become one big violent fantasy. It never even registered with her that she might actually desire the older woman. Perhaps, her stubborn necessity to hate her had prominently fused her child like petulance with the unexpected attraction, burying the latter in a tumultuous hurricane of emotions that never really had a chance to be singled out and examined. 

 

Only now she has no choice. Now, patty is mere inches away and asking her how many times she's thought about doing what she so desperately wants to do right this second. The answer could easily be 'a million' for all Ellen knows. 

 

She feels as though she's been hit with a bulldozer and she's thankful to be sitting. No feelings of hurt or anything else that isn't needed, just utter and complete raw inexplicable lust. It's as if she's melted against the elegant leather seat. Patty's perfume, the distinct smell of her shampoo, the bourbon in her breath, the nearness of her lips, it's all too much and unbeknownst to herself, a pathetic whimper like sound escapes from her lips.

 

She expects Patty to mock her, to tease her some more about the contradiction of her supposed hatred, but instead, Patty licks her lips and her eyes flutter shut at the sound of Ellen's reaction. 

 

She may be able to spew vile at a moment's notice, but there is very little Patty can do about the way her neurons respond to this new side of Ellen Parsons. Still, no matter how drunk she is or how badly she wants it, she needs Ellen to make the first move. She needs her to relinquish whatever power she thinks she still has over herself. Patty needs to see her completely defenseless before allowing her to do do the same in return. So she holds back, her hands a tight grip over the leather on either side of Ellen's head, her breath heavy with want for what seems like an eternity until Ellen's head finally lifts and captures Patty in a kiss worth all their years of denial.

 

Ellen cradles the back of Patty's head as to not allow a single breath, all the while her body moves to sit up and her free hand finds Patty's waist, keeping a firm hold as she forces the older woman's mouth open with her tongue and Patty moans her approval while all she can hope as she leads Ellen to stand, is that she'll follow.

 

Ellen does, but because she has no choice.

 

Of all her proud dominance with past lovers, Ellen can't help but follow like a lovesick inexperienced girl . She doesn't think she can stop now and she refuses to pull away from this bruising kiss that's quickly become addictive.

 

They're standing, hands greedily exploring every dip and curve, while they part in the briefest of breaks to catch a breath before they meet again in a kiss that Patty quickly leads. This one is deep, and sensual, and Ellen nearly loses her place just pulling Patty's blouse from the waistband of her pants along with her mind, which has now become a useless jelly-like mess.

 

But patty is still able to think quickly enough and she's already shed her own purple blazer when she pulls Ellen's blouse up and over her head, only to let the the featherlight material fall in a shiny little pool at their feet.

 

Patty fills her hands with Ellen's breasts. She fleetingly notes how perfectly they fit in her palms, before she presses and molds them more firmly, selfishly nipping at Ellen's bottom lip, only to hear the tiny hiss that follows before she finds herself being guided backward until the back of her knees hit the the chair she had just vacated and she falls easily into it, grunting both at the unpredicted change and at the interrupted kiss both women are breathless from.

 

Ellen smiles as she takes a couple of steps back to survail the mess she's made of Patty. The usually collected woman, sits nearly sprawled on the large chair, flushed in wrinkled clothes that are now pulled out of place. Somehow, this fills Ellen with pride. Patty notices this immediately and laughs, scooting up and back to sit up straight. Holding her hand out, she says, "Come here."

 

It isn't that Ellen's suddenly given up her rebellion against Patty. No, it's just that she doesn't have the energy to do much else but obey. As she sits astride Patty, she kisses her again, while simultaneously snaking both hands underneath the silky top the blonde wears to palm lace covered breasts, teasingly running her thumbs over pebbled nipples while she grinds her hips forward and helps herself to another kiss.  

 

Ellen quickly takes a liking to just how sensitive Patty's nipples appear to be. She traces them with her thumbs, and Patty's hips buck forward, she pinches them and Patty whimpers. It's an indescribable sense of power like Ellen never thought possible. 

 

Patty could be disgusted by the pleading, whimpering noises she's suddenly not above eliciting, but Ellen is good at this--good at torturing her. And the younger woman enjoys it. She enjoys Patty for a great while longer in fact before she's had it with her shirt and does away with it, feasting then on the blonde's collarbone, licking and sucking before moving down to the swell of her breasts. She tugs at the lace of the impeding garment with her teeth, only briefly, before she pulls both bra straps off Patty's shoulders and then reaches around to do away with the useless thing once and for all.

 

Patty's head falls back against the headrest, relishing in the feel of Ellen's mouth, wet and warm against her skin, her tongue and just the right graze of teeth-- "Kiss me here," Patty instructs gently, touching her hand to her neck before Ellen quickly latches on, leaving a ghostly trail of kisses that make Patty's spine tingle in the most delicious way. So much so that she feels the loss of Ellen's mouth like a bucket of ice cold water, that is. Ellen lifts Patty's hand up to her lips and without warning slips the older woman's middle and index finger into her mouth, swirling her tongue around them until Patty can't breathe, or move or do much else except watch.

 

It isn't that Ellen is selfish, it's just that she had no idea she had been waiting for this--she didn't know she wanted it, and now that she knows, she needs to have it before either woman becomes sober again. She's wet and and throbbing and she's always loved Patty's hands, so she sucks her fingers into her mouth and becomes a little wetter as she wonders in anticipation how they'll feel inside her. Tracing the ridges of a knuckle with her tongue, Ellen shivers and gives a little moan. 

 

Patty's chest is heaving when Ellen finally looks up, so she smirks and licks Patty's fingers one more time, taking her time to give her a nice show, while hiking her skirt up a little higher with one hand, then reaching between her legs to pull the crotch of her underwear aside to then guide Patty's hand where she needs it. 

 

The sense of urgency fails to remain intact for a moment in which things slow down. Where Ellen presses her forehead to Patty's in anticipation and Patty is suddenly stilled by the first stroke inside Ellen's delicate folds, her mouth falling open in a silent cry of pure ecstasy while she feels her way around. Ellen feels like velvet, and for a second Patty can't stand it. The wetness, the smooth, slick sensation and the gentle pulsating that embraces her fingers. Ellen begins to move and Patty feels slightly irritated because it's just like a Ellen to ruin a nice, quiet moment with aggression and her selfish 'me first' attitude. Well, that's just fine. Because Patty can do aggressive better than anyone.

 

In one abrupt motion, Patty scoots forward about an inch, enough for leverage.

 

When she gives the first thrust, Ellen gasps audibly and when the third finger is added, she stops completely and her eyes widen in surprise, but her inaction doesn't last very long. Her hips begin to move at their own accord. Short, deliberate strokes as she braces herself with one hand on Patty's shoulder and the other on the the backrest. 

 

Patty thrusts harder and Ellen cries out, holding out breathlessly to accommodate herself around the girth that's just painful enough to be perfect. "More," She moans softly, then gasps again when Patty obliges. Ellen chuckles as her body shivers involuntary. She leans forward, but is slightly knocked out of sense once Patty turns her head away denying her the kiss she so desperately wants. She tries again, only to be dodged once more.

 

"No," Patty says, grunting softly with every calculated push of her hand, which varies in technique, mostly because she's curious to know Ellen's every preference, only to find the most effective action is circular, and deep. "Tell me," she says, feeling a surge of moisture as she presses the ridges of her knuckles against Ellen's opening.

 

It takes Ellen a few seconds and well gathered self control to finally recall Patty's earlier question and in between moans, she replies, "At least twice a day since I've known you, I think."

 

Patty sighs, nearly satisfied, with that answer at least. "What did you think about?"

 

"This." Ellen answers quickly, eyes closed and brow furrowed as she grinds down against Patty's hand and the heel of it meets her clit and rubs. She throws her head back and moans a desperate, "Oh god," realizing at the same time that she is not lying. For a second, this seems to be good enough for Patty and she leans forward in what appears to be an incoming kiss, but she pulls back just before their lips meet, smirking mischievously, her fingers curved up in a 'come hither' motion that seems to surge something within Ellen because the younger woman tightens her grip on Patty's shoulder and she grunts.

 

She bites her lip and then bites down on Patty's shoulder in frustration when the strokes change angle and ease her out away from release. She pulls back and gasps, "Manipulative bitch."

 

There is a smile in Ellen's tone and Patty responds in kind with an, "Entitled ingrate," and a a swipe of her thumb across Ellen's clit.

 

And light seems to explode behind Ellen's eyelids.

 

She's been kissed now, although she seems to be nearly sobbing, riding Patty's hand so hard, she nearly crushes it between their bodies. Not that Patty would care. Ellen's mouth is wet and her kisses are sloppy and perfect. And every desperate sound they muffle between them is completely worth the ache in Patty's wrist, because when she turns her digits downward Ellen gasps and her body goes rigid, convulsing sporadically through her orgasm. Patty shuts her eyes tightly and fights back a moan of her own at the sensation of Ellen, tight and unrelenting around her fingers as the brunette buries her head in the crook of Patty's neck, remaining there for several minutes, until her body allows her movement and she reaches between them to wordlessly still Patty's wrist, which seem to be moving all on their own.

 

She's breathing heavily still, but in between gulps of air, Ellen manages to pleadingly ask the older woman to stop. She feels kisses along her bare shoulder and a wave of of something she can't define engulfs her. Whatever it is, it feels like something that isn't hers and instantly, even though her body is still humming, she turns her lips onto Patty's skin and works her way along the shoulder and collar bone, her neck, hearing her sigh when she pays special attention her breasts and then slides off her lap to kneel between her legs.

 

The most surprising thing about this entire situation, is how easily Patty seems to be falling under Ellen's touch. She sinks low in her seat, sighing with every lap of the young woman's tongue, anticipating every kiss. 

 

Ellen takes her time. As if she's memorizing every single patch of freckled skin. And she very well might be, because who knew that Patty had this many freckles? She licks a particularly attractive pattern on the left side of her ribcage and she smiles when Patty squirms away. She trails down lower and traces the cesarean scar low on her tummy, first with the featherlight caress of her fingers, and then with her lips. As she does so, she sees two other different kinds of scars. The bigger of the two sits low on Patty's side, it isn't too big, but it stops Ellen nonetheless with child like curiosity. They are similar to each other, though one seems like it's resided on Patty's skin a lot longer. Ellen's never really thought of Patty as scarred--not that this makes her marred in any form. It's quite the contrary, in fact. It adds so much more to Patty's already cemented experience. It somehow presents this idea to Ellen, about just how much Patty has truly endured. Somehow, knowing there is a mark, an actual physical and visual mark--it makes Patty seem much more human. It makes the risk this a lot more tangible. There is a thrill in that.

 

Suddenly, Ellen is very aware of the blood pumping through the blonde's body, she's aware of the heat of the skin underneath her touch. It excites her on a superior level. It makes the thirst to destroy Patty all the more powerful--to see there is life inside the woman, to know she does feel.

 

Patty holds her breath then, eyes opening up at the ceiling of the plane as her heart thunders in her chest. 

 

"How did you get this?" Ellen asks, her voice small, almost as small as the kisses she peppers around the freshest of scars. 

 

Patty swallows audibly and licks her lips, sighing in spite of herself. She realizes how ridiculous it is, that she is a lot more worried about having to explain the scar than any other other product of her vanity. Ellen undoes the button of her slacks, and for a second, Patty thinks she might not have to answer, except Ellen licks a single trail back up Patty's torso and the blonde forgets that she's avoiding this conversation because Ellen is kissing her neck and eagerly pulling at her pants with both hands as she asks again, "How did you get that scar?" 

 

"Oh," Patty sighs, leaning into Ellen's lips with a lot more desire than she'd care to admit to herself. "That night. In the hotel room. Finn Garretty attacked me."

 

Ellen's eyes slowly open with her lips lingering on Patty's pulse point while her sight adjusts to the smooth, responsive skin she's kissing. She idly fingers the thin material of Patty's underwear.

 

She clearly remembers hearing about Patty's attack. She didn't know the details. She never asked. She didn't care. But this night seems to be the one for answers, so she asks, "When did it happen? After I left to see the judge?" Her bare breasts graze Patty's and Ellen can't help the shuddering exhale she produces when it happens.

 

Patty writhes a  little, because Ellen's fingertips are making her bit mad, the way the tickle her skin. Gently stroking Ellen's back, she sighs and replies hastily, "It doesn't matter, Ellen."

 

That answers everything. This isn't something they will be discussing any longer. And that's fine. 

 

Ellen's breath is heavy against Patty's skin and to the blonde's surprise, there is no more talking. Ellen's mouth is reasonably avaricious and devouring her like they've got no time, which could very well be the case for all they know after tonight.

 

There is no asking anymore, Ellen simply takes. She pulls at Patty's pants, her nails scratching her hips as she tugs them off, along with the underwear she has very little patience for. In her eyes, Patty sees that same appetite she herself had and still very much possesses for control, that same mirrored astuteness that is very green but very much present nonetheless.

 

For the proceeding moments, all lines are blurred. Lines they had drawn out in chalk, are easily dusted off with the unadulterated taste of each other's skin and there is no going back.

 

Patty finds that there is no sign of inexperience in the way Ellen touches her. The way she teasingly licks her from top to bottom, leisurely, drawing out the tension until Patty's back is arching and she's trying very hard to suppress the desperate moaning by biting down on her lip.

 

Ellen is surprisingly agile in her technique, practiced or not, it works. And it works quickly. She has Patty moaning and wordlessly asking for more with a guiding hand on the back of the brunette's head, her hips reaching for her mouth until Patty's body rises and falls against her seat with every unexpected wave of her orgasm. Unknowingly, her hand forms a fist with a handful Ellen's hair when the second, sharper release hits and she trembles uncontrollably. 

 

She's quiet, Ellen notes. Or perhaps just holding back. At any rate, she eases out from between Patty's legs, resisting the urge to kiss her again as she wipes her chin clean and looks down at her handy work, naked and breathing heavily, shielding her eyes with her hand. 

 

Maybe it's the lighting, or perhaps the afterglow but Ellen can't help but devour the woman with her eyes. She's remarkably beautiful, and she wonders why she's never stopped to really look at her before, she wonders how Phil or any other stupid man ever walked out on this woman, because in spite of all the roadblocks Patty sets for people and the difficult to reach standards she expects, it would be _worth_ it. 

 

She must be blindsided by her own thoughts, or maybe Patty just really is that good at distraction. It doesn't matter, because she pushes herself up and kisses Ellen until the the brunette is desperately clinging to Patty, until it dawns on them both that this is it and it becomes more violent and punishing, until their lips are bruised enough so that they'll feel it for days, until they don't see it coming and they're punishing each other for what they know is mistake, fucking each other simply for the sake of having someone admit defeat. Ellen does so first, with a whimpering protest, sitting up on the seat that has been easily reclined, and then buries her head in her hands, struggling to catch her breath while Patty dresses behind her.

 

Lynn finds them later, sitting on opposite ends of the plane, unwilling to look at each other. It doesn't take the flight attendant long to figure it out and she offers refreshments one more time before announcing they will be landing soon.

 

The women don't direct a single word more. When they land and Patty coldly breezes right past Ellen in the direction of her car, Ellen grows so angry, that it causes the biggest fight she and Chris have ever had and she decides she's more determined than ever to disgrace Patty in the worst possible way.

 

While Patty anxiously waits.

   


End file.
